Pants in Dawnstar Museum
by VioletUnicorn666
Summary: I always imagined this was how the pants in the Dawnstar museum came to be there, if there were any pants in the Dawnstar museum


...then one day, when she had lot of work to do elsewhere, like she usually does, The Second Dovahkiin took a turn north on the road from Heljarchen, past Fort Dunstad where many bandits used to live back then. She came to the gates and thus spoke, her breath smelling of various liquors: "Hey, ya cunts! I am knight-errant Jazzabay of Grapes, and I order that you relinquish your ill-quoted clams or face my sword!" Then she bent over and vomitted all over her boots in fashion most heroic to behold.

Brojn the Majestic-Big-Cat, who was sitting on one of the less ruined sections of the walls, had shitty day as it was, without adding the drunk knight to the mix. In the morning, he lost his left sock, during lunch he swallowed a bone from slaughterfish and in the evening he stepped into the waste-bucket, losing the second sock. Thus he sat on the walls now, brooding, cold and smelly, staring into the night. Seeing The Second Dovahkiin, he ignored all the smart sounding sentences his head was spewing at him, and instead took his bow and shot her through the throat. The high elf lay there, sprawled on her back, shaking a little before stopping to move completely.  
Brojn the Majestic-Big-Cat felt satisfied from his work, and went to sleep, because after this drunken fool, universe certainly wouldn't send anything else at the Fort.

In the morning, The Second Dovahkiin woke with a mild hungover. It is possible it was mitigated by the much worse pain that was coming from her wrist, which broke when she fell on the ground and hit a stone with her hand. With her eyes still closed, she worked a restoration spell and healed her hand, then stood up and slowly walked north, not noticing the bandit who fell from the fort walls in shock. Slowly dragging herself north, walking few metres fom the road because only idiots let world determine their path for them, she rememberered she planned to vanquish the bandits she just left behind. She moaned in mild frustration and waved her hand in vaguely that direction. The she continued north because only idiots look on past mistakes - she was an enlightened person who lets their mistakes come to them and bite them in the ass. She was also a skilled alchemist, so she ingested special potion that made her flesh poisionous every day. Old habits die hard - especially Thalmor habits, even though she wasn't that old.

She was The Second Dovahkiin, a spare chosen one, and as such she walked special ways that allowed her to cover incredible distances in just a few minutes, as if world was shrinking around her or anybody else who traveled with her. Thus it was only five minutes untill she traversed the pass into the northern part of the Pale, immediately stumbling upon an Interesting Place, one that appeared on her magical map. It was a camp of giants, and she sneaked in in broad daylight, her golden armor a perfect camouflage on pure white snow, and stole all the cheese... Well, she intended to, but then she rememberered that giants also had to eat, and so took only a handfull and left a bottle of mead in its place.  
A huge man who was watching her the whole time nodded approvingly, and they talked. Nobody knows exacty about what, for The Second Dovahkiin forgot it all the next day, but my guess is they shared their life's stories and exchanged some wise talk, for she was feeling inspired for the rest of the day.

Anyway, it was ten in the morning when she bid farewell to the man who lived with giants, and headed further north. She never visited the capital of the Pale before, and as such she was curious. Cities always felt small to her, just like the ways she traveled.  
She arrived in the city and headed staright to the tavern. On her way, she met local orphan, a boy that probably wasn't named Gabriello, but I will call him such, and he told her how he planned to open his own alchemical enterprise. He was a bit cynical, and too smart for a kid, so it was clear he would get some lesson about humility soon. Jazzabay thus told him to tag along so he may recieve that lesson in such a way that it won't be lethal. Gabriello accepted, because under the mask of cunning businessman, he was still a kid and those little shi... ehm, they are simply naturally curious, and if nothing more, he might get a chance to swipe her purse.

So the duo travelled the uppermost of the many streets layered each a little higher than the last, with the lowest laying along the coast. This one was the best looking, containing the best tavern in the city and a jarl's house. She headed there first.

This jarl's house was mostly the same as every other in Skyrim. One great hall, a fireplace in the middle to discourage people from forming long lines and some rooms on the sides. The idiots even all slept in the same room, the big one on the righ, probably to make it easier for assassins. At least the four gourds along the walls looked sharp and watched her every move, an impressive feat for any vegetable, to be sure.

She talked to the jarl, and when she made it clear that she wasn't a Thalmor spy even though she wore their signature armor, he pointed her to the inn, to ask for some dunmer monk. The visit was thus a waste of time, considering she would end in the inn anyway.  
"So this is how adventurers get their quests?" Gabriello asked when they exited the jarl's house. He looked a little dissappointeded. "Oh, it's not like this, usually. I mostly just go around ancient crypts, looting and fighting their guardians. Often, I find people who need help, so I help them, as Mara would like me. And when they inevitably try to betray me, I have to beat unconscious. I heal them afterwards, even leave some loot for them, you understand, but always make it a message." Jazzabay explained, and reached under her breastplate to pull out a necklace with thirty ears on it, human and elf alike. Gabriello stared in mild shock for about a second, then returned to his confident persona of shrewd businessman. "That's an interesting curiosity. The museum may pay a handsome price for it."  
"Eeh, that may not be the best idea. I found it on a guy who helped me raid a crypt near Nightgate Inn. It may very well be from the museum originally, considering other things he had with him. Besides, I like it."

Gabriello asked many questions while they walked back to the beginning of the street, and Jazzbay happily answered, still inspired by the words of man who lived with giants, that telling your backstory to a child you just met is easing for the soul.  
As they were nearing the inn, she asked Gabriello what he knew of the monk and the problem that plagues the city. "He's a follower of Mara. Like you, I guess, only less hungover and doesn't smell of vomit. And... doesn't have an arrow sticking out of his throat."  
Jazzbay laughed. "Now you don't like my voice, heh? Besides, the metaphor is really weird when translated to common multidimensional basic language, also known as english... Alright, let's meet the elf."

Ignoring Gabriello's puzzled look, the heroine kicked open the door. Instead of merry voices, however, only whispers and murmurs reached her ears. It was strange - Nords usually didn't know the meaning of phrase 'too soon to drink' and should have been enjoying themselves. Despite this, Jazzabay walked to the bar and looked upon the bartender. He was a short man without any hair to speak of, but sporting a majestic red moustache. He also looked like he hasn't slept someday since the Merethic era. thinking about it now, Jazzbay realised that everybody in this city looked that way, except the jarl and his the back of her mind, she already started suspecting few horrible scenarios, most likely of them being that the ruling class somehow drains energy of their subjects. She almost began an angry rant on how comunism would solve things, but voice from the far table interrupted her thoughts.  
"If that a fellow dishiple of Marha, I phee?" a hooded man in a monk's robe hastily shook The Second Dovahkiin's hand. "Whelcome, whelcome to Dawnstah. My name is Ehanduh, a fellow sehvant of Godesss of Lohve." And thus the two met. The priest was obviously a good person, and they talked about the problem which plagued the city.  
"The souhce of ouh plight is a daedhic ahtifact known as the Skull of Vaehmina. We must go to the toweh abhove the city and deshoy it." The good priest explained everything in much more detail, but alas, our heroine didn't pay attention, instead looking at the group of handsome Redguard sailors in the corner. It fell to her trusty sidekick she aquired two hours ago to get all the information.  
"Tell me, good man, how does this Skull work?"  
"Ahh, it is comphlicated to explain. Shuffice to shay that it acts as a condhuit foh the power of the Prince, who then sends heh nightmahes to steal the memohies of good people of Dawnstah. They cannot hest, and ahe tihed fhom the dephivation of sleep. Only the uppeh class has access to vahious dhugs that give you dheamless sleep."  
Gabriello nodded, for it was actually a pretty good explanation. It also gave him some interesting business ideas, but, realising that his new friend is probably goind to save the city too soon for them to make any profit, he asked more questions instead.  
"Tell me, good man, how do you propose we stop this injustice?" he thught he should sound at least bit noble, now that he was a sidekick of a great hero.  
"Ahh, as i said alheady. We'll go to the toweh above the city and desthoy the skull. It is called the Nightcalleh Temple. We'll have to be wahy, howeveh, foh thehe will be many bandits and cultists asleep thehe, undeh the effects of miasma. I do not fancy the idea of cutting theih thhoats while they sleep, but ..."  
Gabriello nodded again. He doubted The Second Dovahkiin would have such problem. All seemed to be clear, except one thing.  
"Tell me, good man, how will we be rewarded?"  
The priest smiled slightly, for they were drinking the whole time and he forgot to hide his fangs now that he was pissed: "You will be rewahded by jahl, no doubt. And the townsfolk will like you, and give you discounts and such."  
Gabriello nodded for the third time. He told the priest to wait outside and went looking for The Second Dovahkiin into the room of Redguard sailors. It was no easy task, for despite his intellect and keen business sense, he was twelve years old and five rounds of vodka made him stagger a bit. He leaned on the wall near the doors to the room whose occupants made the loudest noises and waited. After a while, Jazzabay staggered out, wearing only a tunic, her plated elven boots and heavy fur cape that wasn't hers, while holding a filled pipe in left hand and her weapon belt in the other. She called to the room as she left: "Don't worry, be back in no time!" The sailors cheered.  
Gabriello told her about the job he secured, and she immediately threw the pipe away and buckled her weapon belt. He gave her a serious look. "Do you realize you're not wearing pants? And is that skooma I smell from you?"  
Needless to say, it was, and Gabriello facepalmed hard. Reasoning that if she returned to the room for pants, she wouldn't have the will to leave, The Second Dovahkiin simply grabbed nearby curtiain and wrapped herself in it, then strode into the night. Gabriello followed, albeit a bit reluctantly.

After meeting with Erandur, the trio climbed the steep cliff in few minutes despite the priest insisting that the journey would take at least an hour. And then they entered the temple and slaughtered everybody. I do not know the details, for The Second Dovahkiin tends to forget skooma trips and I never spoke to either of the other two. What is known, however, is that this night, everybody in the city slept a long deserved sleep, and they dreamed of crushing capitalism.  
The Second Dovahkiin's party returned the following morning, with Erandur missing left ear, left thumb and right foot, but with huge smile on his face.

Gabriello was uninjured, and probably didn't learn any moral lesson, for he was still a cunning businessman instead of idealistic, naive child, and opened his own business, where he used escaped khajiit and argonian slaves as a cheap laborers, producing high quality shoes from dragon skin, which he had apparently infinite supply.

Jazzabay was uninjured, except for the arrow sticking out of her throat, which she dismissed as badly translated metaphor. She threw a big feast with lots of food, drinks and skooma, and it devoured the jarl's reward as well as most of her savings. But the whole city celebrated, and this pleased Jazzabay's patron Lord Sanguine, who always watched her closely, and her aunt Lady Sheogorath, who fondly remembered similar parties she used to organise when she was still the Divine Crusader. And lastly, it pleased Mara, for huge amounts of people and drugs together always produce huge amount of love.

Nobody realised when The Second Dovahkiin left, with lighter purse and ighter heart, only that she forgot her pants in the room in the inn. They are still displayed in the Museum of Dawnstar, stained by alcohol and vomit of drunk partygoers, and people from the whole of Tamriel make pilgrimage there, even though our blessed empress insists that no, those didn't belong to her, but to The Second Dovahkiin, the elven one...


End file.
